


Visions of Fate

by Nelenus



Category: Fire Emblem Echoes: Mou Hitori no Eiyuu Ou | Fire Emblem Echoes: Shadows of Valentia, Fire Emblem Series
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Sort Of, The Turnwheel is relevant to the plot now, Time Loop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-04
Updated: 2019-02-13
Packaged: 2019-08-17 09:24:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16513646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nelenus/pseuds/Nelenus
Summary: Celica's nightmare back on Novis was no mere dream, but a vision from the Turnwheel. She sets out on her journey to the Temple of Mila, hoping to avert the terrible future from her dream. The Turnwheel sends more visions along the way, but she will ultimately call on its power over time itself before her journey ends.





	1. A Warning and a Memory

 

Celica’s sleep had already been troubled for the past several nights. The combined stress of dealing with the drought, the appearance of Terrors on the island, and news of the war with Rigel had all taken their toll on her. When she collapsed into bed that night, it would be another hour before she fell asleep.

The moon shone outside the single window by the bed, illuminating the bed and its occupant in a dim, silvery light. Celica lay on her back, unmoving except for the steady motion of her breath.

Mila’s Turnwheel sat on the nightstand next to the bed. Celica had set it there earlier that day, and all but forgotten about it until she returned to her room in the evening. It was a tiny and unassuming thing; it could fit in the palm of Celica’s hand. But the divine symbols on its face, and the ticking of the intricate machinery inside were proof it was no ordinary trinket. It was a gift from the Earth Mother herself.

And sometimes it would manifest some of her power.

One of the teachings Celica had learned there at the priory was about Mila’s power of sight. Visions of the past, or signs of the future – both could be manifested through the Turnwheel. It even had limited power to rewind time itself.

However, in the seven years Celica had lived at the priory, the Turnwheel had never shown her anything. Sometimes she wondered if it had lost its power.

For now, though, it meant nothing to her. Celica slept, and the Turnwheel sat alone on the nightstand, its owner not even aware of it. But at around midnight, something unusual happened. The Turnwheel started glowing. 

After seven years of silence, the Turnwheel finally spoke. It did not matter that its owner was asleep. It sent the vision to her in a dream.

The dream opened with her standing on the ramparts of a castle. A light snow fell from the steely gray sky, and though she could not feel it, she shivered at the wind that blew across the ramparts. An army stood assembled on either side of her, although they left a giant gap in the middle. Celica stood up against the wall in the center of this gap. Directly in front of her, just ten feet apart, stood two men.

One of them was totally unfamiliar to her. This man stood over six feet tall, wielding a lance and shield both nearly as big as he was. The Rigelian lion adorned his breastplate, while the black crown on his brow stood in stark contrast to his silver hair. Judging by the crown and other regalia, this had to be Rigel’s Emperor Rudolf. He stood poised, ready for battle with the younger man on Celica’s right.

Though she had not seen him since childhood, Celica recognized him immediately. She knew those bright green eyes and matching green hair anywhere. Even if it had been seven years, it suddenly seemed as if she had only seen him yesterday.

Now a man grown, he stood ready for battle as well, clad in blue armor and wielding a sword in his left hand. For a few seconds, he and Emperor Rudolf stared each other down, each waiting for the other to attack. Suddenly, he charged.

“Alm!” Celica cried.

Alm ignored her. He ran forward, and he and Rudolf clashed blades. As they fought, Alm began to speak.

“You took… everything!”

He brought his sword down in a two-handed strike, which Rudolf blocked with his shield. He then answered with an attack of his own, aimed at Alm’s left side. Alm dodged and pressed the attack again. This dance of attacking, blocking, and counterattacking went on for nearly a minute. Between strikes, Alm continued to curse Rudolf for everything he had taken from him.

“You took Zofia! You took my friends! And now… Celica too!”

_What?_ Celica thought. _But I’m right here!_

She stepped forward, her arm outstretched. She tried calling to him again, but her cries seemed to fall on deaf ears. The duel continued.

Rudolf found an opening in Alm’s defenses and bashed him with his shield. Alm grunted in pain and slid backward. Meanwhile, the army around him cheered for their emperor. Though Alm recovered quickly, Rudolf did not press the attack. Instead, the battle went into a lull, the combatants silently staring each other down again. Seizing the opportunity, Celica ran into the gap between them.

“Please, stop!” she said.

There was no reaction from Alm or Rudolf. They still glared at each other, looking right through her. Like she wasn’t even there.

“What’s going on?” Celica pivoted on her heel, glancing frantically between Alm and Rudolf. “Can’t you see me?”

Alm gripped his sword with both hands, preparing to go on the attack. Celica put her arms out to stop him.

“Stop this! I’m begging you!”

She ran toward Alm at the same time Alm charged at Rudolf. Alm let out a battle cry, raised his sword, and ran right through Celica. In her shock, Celica stumbled past him, losing her balance. She fell to the ground.

_What is happening?!_

Picking herself up, Celica looked on as Alm tried in vain to break through Rudolf’s defenses. Every strike he made was blocked by Rudolf’s lance. Rudolf eventually landed a strike of his own, and although Alm deflected the lance away from his chest, the force of the attack still sent him flying backward. He landed so heavily that he immediately dropped to all fours. Leaning on his sword for support, Alm tried to push himself to his feet.

Meanwhile, Rudolf slowly walked up to him. He stood over Alm and raised his lance.

“Alm! Get up!” Celica cried. Even knowing it was a futile effort, she tried to run to him as if to help him up.

She never even made it to his side. Rudolf plunged the lance downward, and Celica stopped short.

“ _NOOOOOO!_ ” she screamed.

She sat bolt upright in the bed, gasping for air, her brow covered in beads of sweat. Her sudden movement sent the sheets sliding off the edge of the bed. It took a minute for her breathing to slow down. Gradually, reality started to set back in.

_Just a dream…_

The words repeated over and over in her head, until she even started to mumble them under her breath. Resting her head in her hands, she tried to force herself to calm down. Even so, the last moments of the dream remained imprinted on her mind.

“Alm…” she whimpered.

On the nightstand by the bed, still unnoticed by its owner, the Turnwheel’s faint glow vanished. It then resumed its normal ticking. For about a minute, that was the only sound in the room.

Celica lifted her head. At first, she merely looked over at the Turnwheel, but after a few seconds, she reached over and picked it up. She stared long and hard at it, thinking. Just when she thought she had gotten it out of her head, images from the dream flashed in her mind again. A troubling thought occurred to her.

“A vision…?” she said.

Nomah had said that visions were not always of something that was going to happen. Rather, they were signs – showing what _could_ happen, and a warning that something needed to be done to prevent it. If that dream was indeed a vision from Mila, then there was only one thing Celica could do.

She set out for the port that morning. Mae, Boey, and Genny went with her.

When she finished packing her satchel, the last thing Celica grabbed before leaving the priory was the Turnwheel. Taking some string, Celica made a necklace for it. That way, the Turnwheel hung from her neck, always within easy reach should she ever need it. With the Turnwheel thus secured, she set out on her journey.

As far as her friends were concerned, this was a pilgrimage to the Temple of Mila. It was true that Celica wanted to find out what had become of the Earth Mother – there had to be _some_ explanation for the drought and the blight of Terrors, after all. But there was more to her journey than that. This was for Alm as well.

*

As her journey went on, events seemed to conspire to fulfill the vision from her dream. Upon reaching Zofia Harbor, news reached Celica’s company that the castle had been liberated. Encouraging news at first, until she heard the rumors about the new leader who had brought the Deliverance back from the brink. He was young, and claimed to be the grandson of Sir Mycen.

Zofia’s new hero was none other than Alm.

He had run Chancellor Desaix out of the castle, forcing the Rigelian army to pull back as well. However, the war with Rigel was far from over, and Alm’s new position made him a prime target.

Knowing it might cost her valuable time, Celica diverted her group anyway. She needed to see him.

She had found him on the castle balcony, overlooking the grounds. Hearing Celica’s footsteps, he turned around. Suddenly overcome with joy at seeing his face for the first time in seven years, Celica ran to meet him. For about a minute, it was a happy reunion. In that moment, the war and her vision were the furthest things from her mind.

Unfortunately, that moment did not last. As their conversation inevitably turned back to the war, things began to unravel. Though she tried to dissuade him, it was to no avail. Not only would he not see a peaceful resolution, he was insistent on continuing to lead the war effort himself. What began as a heartfelt reunion ended as a heated argument. Celica stormed out, hands shaking from her anxiety and anger.

Alm had no idea the danger he was in. Yet there was nothing Celica could do but hurry to the Temple of Mila.

Things only got worse when she did make it to the Temple. After a series of detours and delays, she finally reached her destination, only to find it in ruins. Mila had not merely disappeared; she had been taken captive by Emperor Rudolf himself. Now she was being held somewhere in Rigel.

The Turnwheel showed her everything. Shortly after Celica entered the throne room, it started glowing. It cast its light over the chamber, turning back time to reveal what happened.

Mila reappeared, seated comfortably on the throne. The damage done by the battle disappeared, and the chamber echoed with the hymns of the priestesses surrounding the throne. Their song abruptly stopped when the doors burst open. Rigelian soldiers marched in.

Celica turned around and watched as Rudolf and his guard marched through the double doors, stopping at the steps in front of the throne, inches away from Celica. He was clad in the same armor he wore in Celica’s dream back on Novis. However, instead of a lance, Rudolf unsheathed a sword and thrust its point into the ground. He rested his hands on the pommel and waited for Mila’s reply.

“The Kingsfang…” Mila muttered.

“The Mother may deduce my intentions… from this blade!” Rudolf said. “You know what it signifies!”

Celica looked at the sword. _Kingsfang…_ she thought. _Is that… Falchion? The blade carved from Naga’s fang? The only blade that can – oh gods, no…_

Mila stood up, eyes blazing with fury.

“Indeed!” she said. She clenched her fists, and a wind seemed to come out of nowhere, swirling around Mila herself. “It means you are in violation of the Accord!”

She flung her arms wide, and the wind grew stronger. It pushed the priestesses back. Some tried in vain to cling to the arms of the throne, but the wind only grew fiercer, sending even the strongest one flying. Meanwhile, Celica stood still, unaffected. This time, she knew it was merely a vision. She stood by and watched the scene unfold, the knot in her stomach tightening by the second.

Rudolf pulled Falchion out of the floor, readying himself. Mila’s body glowed with a divine aura that rapidly intensified until Mila herself was no longer visible. The light filled the chamber, and the wind sent all but Rudolf and Celica careening in all directions.

Similar to what Alm did in the last vision, Rudolf charged through Celica and up the steps. By the time he made it about halfway, the chamber shook from the roar of a dragon. The light faded, and the wind died down, revealing Mila once again. But she no longer looked like the benevolent goddess Celica knew. She had taken to her dragon form.

Celica drew back, suddenly horrified at the sight. Though she had never seen the goddess’ dragon form before, something didn’t seem right about the dragon in front of her now. Mila’s scales were mostly deep green, but several unsightly black splotches discolored her body. The holes in the membrane of her wings looked like the beginnings of decay. Her eyes glowed bluish-white, but they blazed with a rage unlike anything Celica had ever seen.

While Celica had been distracted, Rudolf closed the distance between himself and Mila, and the battle began. His blade clashed with Mila’s claws. With both hands grasping Falchion’s hilt, Rudolf put all his weight into pushing Mila’s arm away. Mila roared, and something glowed in the back of her mouth. Celica gasped and backed away.

Mila spewed blue fire down the steps. The flames overtook Celica almost immediately, though they could not harm her. Rudolf, on the other hand, had to leap out of the way. He landed to the right of the throne. Undeterred, he pressed his attack.

Their fight took them all over the throne room. Mila leaped around at random, making wide sweeps with her claws that Rudolf dodged with remarkable ease. Occasionally, Mila would spew out more of her fire, also to no avail. Even though Rudolf retaliated with more carefully aimed strikes, neither of them could penetrate the other’s defenses. Their battle raged for several minutes, ranging over the entire temple. Celica watched the battle transform the once beautiful temple into the ruins she found on her arrival.

Finally, Rudolf found an opening. After missing yet another swipe at her human target, Mila stood with her head lowered nearly to the ground for about two seconds. In those two seconds, Rudolf ran over, Falchion pointed directly ahead, and thrust it into her brow. She roared in pain.

“No!” Celica ran over to Mila’s side. For half a second, she forgot it was just a vision.

Mila writhed about, but Rudolf held fast to Falchion. A second later, he tried to pull it out. His eyes went wide when the sword did not budge. Thus distracted, he did not notice Mila’s arm swinging for him. She struck him in the gut, sending him flying backwards. He landed on a pile of rubble halfway across the chamber. Falchion remained impaled in Mila’s brow as she continued to twist and writhe.

Letting out another roar, Mila lay down in the rubble. Then something truly strange happened. Falchion emitted a blinding flash of light, and Mila suddenly froze. Then, Falchion’s gleaming white blade turned a dull gray, as if somehow turned to stone. Mila turned the same color.

Half a minute passed, and nothing happened. Celica reached out, attempting to touch Mila’s head, but her hand went right through it. From what she could see, however, Mila and Falchion had indeed turned to stone.

_What happened?_ Celica thought. _I don’t think he killed her… sealed her powers, perhaps?_

Unfortunately, she never got a clear answer. The vision ended a scant two seconds later, as Rudolf picked himself up and walked over to Mila’s petrified body. He and Mila vanished, leaving Celica to stare in bewilderment at the ruined tile floor.

She stood in front of the empty throne, still struggling with the enormity of the situation. Mila was gone. That explained the famine, and how Rigel had managed to break the Divine Accord. But it also meant that Celica could no longer petition Mila for strength and protection – not for herself, not for Zofia, not even for Alm.

That left only one solution. She had to bring Mila back. But to do so, she had to invade Rigel.

Celica idly rested one hand over the hilt of her sword, while her other hand toyed with the Turnwheel as it hung from her necklace. She thought back to the argument with Alm, and her insistence on a peaceful solution. Standing here, she now knew a peaceful solution was no longer possible. She lowered her gaze to the floor.

_Gods, what a hypocrite I’ve become…_

Closing her fingers around the Turnwheel, she turned on her heel and walked out of the throne room. Hypocrite or no, she had to do this, for her own sake as much as for Mila’s.

She allowed everyone one more night of rest within Zofia’s borders. The next morning, they marched into Rigel.


	2. A Cruel Choice

Invading Rigel proved to be a more arduous task than Celica anticipated. She and her companions marched for days on end through swamps and toxic wasteland. To make matters worse, arcanists, cantors, and Terrors constantly barred the path over what little passable terrain there was.

Yet, as they approached Duma Tower, those things became the least of Celica’s worries.

After passing through Duma Gate, Celica’s company found themselves facing one more obstacle before reaching the tower. No sooner had the tower come into view than a horde of Terrors appeared in the swamp, blocking the path. Celica halted the group and drew her sword.

The laughter of a familiar voice sent shivers down Celica’s spine. Seconds later, the voice’s owner emerged from the shadows of a grove of dead trees. Celica’s companions either drew back or tightened their grips on their weapons at the sight of the purple-skinned figure. Celica, on the other hand, did not move. She knew this man.

For Celica, this was the second time he had appeared. As far as the others knew, however, this was the first. At least, until he began to speak.

“Welcome, Anthiese!” he said.

Celica took a step forward. Her sword was still out, but she kept the blade lowered. Even if her gut told her not to trust him, she would at least try to reason with him first.

“Jedah.” Her tone was calm, but cold. “I’ve come to judge the truth of your claims. Where is Mila? I will meet with her first; any decision I reach will come after.”

Jedah inclined his head. “As you will,” he said. Then, taking a sidelong glance at the rest of Celica’s company, he added, “But my bargain was with you alone.”

Conrad rode up to Celica’s side, positioning himself between her and Jedah.

“And what bargain is this?” Conrad demanded.

Jedah narrowed his eyes.

“That is none of your concern, boy,” he said. “Now stand aside.”

Conrad raised his lance.

“Not until you tell us the terms of your ‘bargain’.”

The Terrors waiting behind Jedah edged closer. Celica’s company inched closer to her in response. Saber even ran up and joined her and Conrad at the forefront of the group.

“What the hell is going on here?” he said. “You two _know_ this guy or something?”

“I have no need for any of you, save Anthiese,” Jedah said. His hands glowed as he readied a spell. “I will not warn you again. Begone!”

Jedah raised his hands, ready to cast. Saber swore and leaped to the side just barely in time to avoid the spell. Conrad charged ahead. Behind Celica, the others joined the charge.

Celica herself stood rooted to the spot, distracted by a light coming from her necklace. She reached up with her free hand, wrapping her fingers around the Turnwheel. It cast its light around her, and the swamp around her vanished.

The light dissipated, and Celica found herself standing in darkness. It took a minute for her eyes to adjust, but when they did, she discovered that she was now standing in an underground chamber.

She took a step forward. The clack of her heel on the stone floor echoed for half a second, then there was nothing. Silence. Not even faint sounds of the battle raging around her in the real world.

She continued to walk forward into the center of the chamber, toward the only source of light: a torch mounted on a pillar. There was something unsettling about its pale blue flames, but she approached regardless. As she drew closer, the gleam of something on the floor nearby the torch caught her eye. Upon closer inspection, she let out a gasp.

“Falchion?”

The same blade Rudolf had used to seal Mila back at the Temple now lay on the floor, seemingly abandoned. Meanwhile, Mila herself was nowhere to be seen. Celica frowned, continuing to examine the blade. There was blood on it.

“Strange… whose blood is this?”

Celica scanned the chamber again. This time she looked to her left, at the shadowy part of the chamber just beyond the reach of the torchlight. She spotted the outline of something lying on the floor, obscured by the shadows within a couple dozen feet of Falchion.

Narrowing her eyes, she stared long and hard at it, until she could gradually make out its shape. Eventually, she realized that the ‘object’ was in fact a human body – lying down, unmoving.

She balked. _What happened?_ _Falchion’s been unsealed; does that mean Mila’s been freed? And who is that over there? Are they still alive?_

The knot in her stomach returned. Jedah’s offer to her back at the Dead Man’s Mire rang in her ears. Perhaps this was the result of offering her soul: her life in exchange for Mila’s. That could be her own corpse over there.

Taking a deep breath, Celica forced herself forward. No matter how disturbing the possibility, she needed to know who this person was. The Turnwheel was showing this to her for a reason. She took a few more steps forward, but then abruptly stopped. Her heart plummeted, and the color drained from her face.

That was not her body lying there. This was worse than even that.

It was Alm.

He lay on his side, eyes closed, in a pool of his own blood. His total lack of movement – not even so much as the steady rhythm of breath – confirmed the worst. He was not merely wounded or unconscious; he was dead.

“Gods, no…”

Forcing herself to take another couple of steps closer, Celica then knelt down, examining Alm’s body. His armor had been pierced in two places – once in the chest, with a matching wound in the back.

Someone had run him through with a blade. But the blade in question seemed to be missing.

One possibility occurred to her almost instantly. She thought back to the blood she saw on Falchion, wondering if it could have been his. Turning her head, she fixed her gaze on the divine blade.

_But how could that be? If sacrificing my soul breaks the seal and frees Mila, then who would have taken Falchion and…_

Previous visions flashed through her mind. Rudolf had used the blade on Mila back at the Temple. Celica now pictured him standing over Alm – as had happened in her nightmare back on the island – but with Falchion in hand instead of the lance. The instant before Rudolf dealt the fatal blow, Celica squeezed her eyes shut and turned away.

She reopened her eyes, only to find herself looking straight ahead again. Alm’s corpse still lay on the floor in front of her. She began to hyperventilate, and tears welled up in her eyes. Half-blinded by her tears, she started to reach for him, only to have her hands phase through his body.

“Alm!” she cried. “Alm, please… this can’t…”

The words had barely escaped her lips when the vision abruptly ended. Alm vanished, and the swamp returned.

She stood in the same spot as when the Turnwheel had first started to glow. There was no sound of battle; Jedah had fled while Celica was still in the vision. Now her companions gathered around her, all with looks of varying degrees of concern on their faces.

Reality began to reassert itself. The Turnwheel and the Beloved Zofia were still tightly clutched in her left and right hands, respectively. She let go of the Turnwheel, which she had apparently been clutching so tightly that it left an imprint on her hand. Letting out a sigh of relief, she subsequently became aware of tears running down her cheeks and sweat on her brow. Sheathing her sword, she then wiped her face.

Conrad approached her first. He put his lance away and dismounted. Stopping just inches away from her, he reached out and helped her wipe her tears.

“Anthiese?” he said. “Are you all right? You completely froze; did Jedah cast some kind of spell on you?”

“No.” Celica blinked several times, averting her gaze. “I… I’m all right. I just need a moment…”

She took a minute to regain her composure. Once she felt sufficiently calmed down, she turned as if to go.

“Now hold on a minute, lass.”

She stopped. Saber sheathed his sword and approached her as well.

“That dog Jedah wouldn’t say anything about it,” he continued. “But we need to know _now._ What’s this ‘bargain’ he was talking about?”

“I…” Celica couldn’t bring herself to finish the sentence.

_It was probably just another warning from Mila,_ she thought. _But… against what? Offering my soul to Duma? It’s the only way to save Mila… and if I do nothing, all of Valentia will perish…_

“I can’t say,” she said. “I know that’s not what you want to hear, but…”

“Damn it, Celica!” Saber said. “As far as we’ve come, don’t you think we deserve a _little_ trust at this point?”

“I _do_ trust you!” Celica countered. “I trust all of you with my life!”

She paused. Everyone looked pointedly at her, waiting for her to continue. She glanced around, taking a deep breath.

“But this… is different,” she went on. “I’m sorry I can’t tell you more, I really am. But for now, we must get to Duma Tower. That’s where Mila is, and it is imperative that I speak with her. I promise I will tell you everything as soon as that is done. But until then, I must ask that you place your trust in me one more time.”

Saber sighed. “All right,” he said. “You know I trust you. But you better start talking as soon as you’re done with Mila.”

Conrad was not as easily convinced. He took a step back, looking Celica directly in the eye.

“You know I trust you as well,” he said. “It’s Jedah that I don’t trust. I don’t know what his bargain with you is, but I doubt he will uphold it – if he’s even telling you the truth in the first place.”

“I know; I am not walking blindly into this, Conrad,” Celica said. “But he’s the one holding Mila. What other choice do we have? Whether I agree to the bargain or not, we still need to at least reach the tower.”

Conrad lowered his gaze.

“All right.”

With that, he returned to his horse. He jumped back into the saddle, seizing the reins.

“Fortunately, the tower is close,” he said. “Probably less than a day’s march away.”

Celica nodded. Back on the march they went.

Just as Conrad said, they reached their destination the next day. Celica led the way through the tower’s massive double door entrance. From there, she and her companions spent the better part of an hour fighting their way up to the tower’s peak.

All the while, Celica kept finding herself distracted. Anxiety and doubt plagued her thoughts. Even during battle, she had trouble keeping her guard up. In her mind’s eye, the visions replayed themselves over and over. Whether it was on the ramparts of Rigel Castle, or in that mysterious underground chamber, all scenarios pointed to the same conclusion.

_Was this all pointless?_ Celica thought. _I thought if I could free Mila, that would save everyone… that I could keep Alm safe…_

A witch teleported close to her, readying a spell. The spell would have hit its mark had Mae not pushed Celica out of the way. Mae then proceeded to ready a spell of her own. A bluish-purple aura enveloped her target, and its rays struck the witch’s body from nearly every side. The witch let out a bloodcurdling shriek, and then vanished.

Mae turned to face Celica.

“You okay, Celica?” she asked. “It’s not like you to freeze in battle like this…”

Celica stared in silence at the spot where the witch had been. A few seconds later, she finally responded.

“I’m fine…”

It was a lie. In reality, her resolve weakened by the minute. She now found herself paralyzed at the horrifying choice facing her.

_Must I save Valentia, only to lose Alm?_

Mae frowned. She didn’t have the time to say anything, as a couple of Terrors started heading in their direction. Mumbling under her breath, Mae readied a Seraphim spell. Celica joined her. Together, their magic made short work of the fell creatures.

With the enemies in their path defeated, Celica made a beeline for the staircase. Though her companions had no trouble keeping up with her, she maintained a pace too fast for anyone to talk to her.

_No… I must be missing something… there has to be a way to save both…_

Floor after floor, staircase after staircase, Celica continued to lead the group up the tower. Her doubts continued to assail her, even as she halted outside the doors of the tower’s pinnacle. She stared at the doors for a full minute before reaching for the handle.

Jedah waited for her on the other side of those doors. But even after all the time she had had to think on it, Celica still had not reached a decision.

“Anthiese…” Conrad said softly.

Taking a deep breath, Celica finally seized the door handle. She pulled the doors open. Sure enough, there stood Jedah, waiting atop a stone dais in the center of the room. Once Celica opened the doors, he descended from the dais and walked toward her. He stopped just a couple paces away from the threshold.

“Impressive,” he said.

“Enough talk,” Celica said. “Where is Mila? My agreement was to speak with her first.”

Jedah frowned. “Have patience, Your Highness,” he said. “Mila is not here. She is underground, in the Temple of Duma.”

Celica took a step backward. “I don’t understand. Why bring me here then?”

“I can grant you sight, if you so desire,” Jedah replied.

He gestured, and a light flashed from his hands. The tower vanished, replaced by an image of an underground chamber.

Celica put a hand over her mouth to muffle a frightened gasp. This was the exact chamber she had seen in her last vision. The only difference was that Mila’s petrified body now occupied the area in the center of the chamber. Falchion still protruded from the goddess’ brow.

“What the – how could the Earth Mother have turned to stone?”

Boey’s question jolted Celica back to reality. She fixed her gaze on Jedah, staring him down even as she made her reply.

“This is Emperor Rudolf’s doing,” she said. “Back at the Temple, he used Falchion to seal her power. This is the result.”

“But… how do we undo it?” Boey asked.

“I’m afraid you are mistaken, Princess,” Jedah said. “What you see is Mila’s own doing. She has sealed Falchion away herself.”

“What?! You’re lying!” Celica exclaimed. _I saw it myself, through the Turnwheel…_

“I speak the truth,” Jedah insisted, annoyance creeping into his voice. “Regardless, you know what must be done. If you wish for her release, you must offer up your soul.”

Celica lowered her gaze to the floor. Meanwhile, Jedah’s statement sent her companions into an uproar.

“What? Did he just say what I think he said?”

“Celica, no! He’s going to turn you into a witch!”

“Anthiese! No! Don’t do this!”

While she still had her head lowered, Celica’s attention shifted from the floor to her necklace and the Turnwheel hanging from it. She kept her gaze turned downward and said nothing. Her mind was racing, but in the meantime, Jedah had grown impatient.

“I suggest you make your decision quickly, Your Highness,” he said. “You are running out of time.”

Celica’s head snapped up.

“What do you mean?”

Jedah gestured again. Another bright light flashed from his hand, and the scene before them changed. The underground chamber transformed into the snow-covered battlements of Rigel Castle.

Another sight from Celica’s visions.

Emperor Rudolf and his men stood assembled on the ramparts. The soldiers held their weapons at the ready, but no one moved. They stood in tense silence, waiting for battle.

Jedah broke the silence first.

“Any minute now, the Deliverance will reach the castle gates,” he said. “They face not only Emperor Rudolf himself, but all of his finest troops.”

A muscle jerked in Celica’s cheek. If she didn’t act, the vision she had on the island was about to come true right in front of her.

“You can stop this,” Jedah pressed. “If you offer your soul-”

“I know!” Celica interrupted.

Slowly, hesitantly, she took a step forward.

“Anthiese!”

Conrad grabbed her by the arm.

“Conrad, please,” Celica said.

“You made a promise, remember?” Conrad said. “You promised not to throw your life away again…”

“I know,” Celica said. “But we no longer have a choice. I have to save Mila and Duma. And the only thing that can save the divine dragons is the soul of a Brand Bearer.”

She turned around and pushed Conrad’s hand away.

“I’m truly sorry,” she said. “If there was another way, I would do it…”

As she spoke, she clutched the Turnwheel in her hand. She had finally reached her decision.

The Turnwheel was not only for showing her visions. It also had the power to turn back time itself. If Jedah really was lying, she had a means of escape. She would be able to buy enough time to look for another solution.

Letting go of the Turnwheel, she straightened her posture and turned to face Jedah.

“All right,” she said. “Bring me to her.”

Jedah smiled. “A wise decision,” he said.

The image of Rigel Castle vanished. Jedah then conjured a warp circle under his and Celica’s feet. Seconds later, they were gone.


	3. Journey's End

She and Jedah reappeared in an underground chamber. However, this place looked nothing like what she had seen in her vision. Yet something about the place still made the hairs on the back of Celica’s neck stand on end.

Perhaps it was the torches on the wall, with their sickly yellow glow. Or the toxic swamp bubbling behind her. Or the fact that within seconds of their arrival, the ground shook from the roar of a dragon.

Duma.

Celica looked around, but there was no dragon in sight. Before she could say anything, Jedah seized her by the arm and pulled her forward. He then let go of her and stretched his arms open wide.

“What are you doing?” Celica asked.

“This is the chamber where Lord Duma resides,” Jedah replied. “We will perform the ceremony here.”

“But… where is Mila?”

Jedah ignored her.

“My lord Duma!” he called out, turning his gaze upward. “I have brought you the Brand Bearer!”

A flash of purple light lit up the chamber for a fraction of a second. After the light, a giant eye appeared in the air above them. The ground tremors intensified. Celica struggled to keep her balance. When the shaking stopped, she stared in horror at the eye.

“What… is that?”

Every fiber of her being seemed to scream at her. Get away. This was wrong. But when she tried to step away, her heart nearly stopped.

She couldn’t move.

Her legs refused to run, and her hands would not reach for the Turnwheel. Something had taken control of her body.

“No!”

Jedah laughed. He lifted his arms, and Celica found herself being lifted into the air by his magic. The next thing she knew, she was level with the eye.

“Take her soul and feast!”

Celica screamed. She fought with all her might against the magic binding her in place, but to no avail. The magical light from the eye enveloped her.

Then she blacked out.

She awoke minutes later, alone. It took a second for her to register where she had been moved to. But when the realization did come to her, her heart sank.

Mila’s petrified body lay in front of her, illuminated by the pale, eerie light of the surrounding torches. That alone was enough to tell her where she was. She was in the chamber from her last vision.

_Oh no…_

“ _Brand Bearer…”_

_What?_

The voice had come from inside her head.

_Who are –_

Celica tried to speak the words aloud but couldn’t. Something else had taken control of her body. And it would not allow her to move or speak.

“ _Strength… your soul’s power…”_

A transparent image appeared in front of her. It started out shapeless and blurry, but it gradually took form.

At first, it seemed like an ordinary human man clad in ancient armor. However, his pointed ears, draconic tail, and hair as long and green as Mila’s revealed this was no mere human. This was Duma in his human form. He stared unblinkingly at Celica with glowing red eyes.

_Duma…_

“ _You possess great power… but it is not enough…”_

Duma’s lips never moved. The image in front of her was just a projection; the real Duma was speaking to her from inside her own head.

_What do you mean?_

Though unable to speak, the connection she now shared with the mad god meant she did not need to. Duma had not only taken her soul captive, but he had taken possession of her body. And in doing so, he had created a psychic link between them.

“ _Bring me the other Brand Bearer’s soul.”_

Celica’s blood ran cold.

_What do you need Alm’s soul for?!_ she demanded. _My soul alone was all that was needed to save you and Mila, wasn’t it?_

Even as the thought formed in her mind, she realized that it was not true. If it were, Mila’s stone body would not still be lying there in front of her.

Jedah’s bargain had been a trap.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see that the Turnwheel still hung from her neck. Yet despite being in such easy reach, it might as well be miles away. Duma had complete control of her body; she couldn’t move her hand so much as an inch.

“ _Only strength holds sway. It is the only salvation…”_

_What does that mean?_

_“Rule by strength…”_

“…Nngh!”

A surge of divine energy ran through Celica’s body. She could feel her limbs gaining strength, even though she was standing still. A faint red aura began to surround her.

_What are you doing to me?_

The energy surge grew in intensity, causing Celica’s arms and legs to tremble. She stumbled about for a minute.

It was intoxicating. She had never felt this much power at her disposal before. And as the psychic link between her and the mad god deepened, she began to understand. She could hear Duma’s thoughts. His desires.

She felt his madness. His lust for power.

Duma’s madness resonated inside Celica’s head.

“Ah!”

She doubled over, clutching her head. Her shaking stopped, but it took another minute before she could stand upright.

“Lord… Duma…”

Her own voice sounded foreign to her. It had become distorted.

“I… am your faithful servant…”

Muffled sounds of battle began to echo from beyond the corridor leading into the rest of the Vault. Celica stiffened, and her hand flew to her sword hilt.

“ _Your fellow Brand Bearer is here… bring his soul to me…”_

Celica’s hand closed around her sword’s grip, trembling as she pulled the blade from its sheath. Sword drawn, Duma then kept her standing still, waiting.

The battle sounds stopped. A moment later, the muffled echoing of footsteps signaled that Alm was nearing the chamber. Presently, he appeared at the threshold.

He came to an abrupt halt a few steps in.

“What the…” he muttered, just barely loud enough for Celica to hear. “What are Mila and Falchion doing here?”

Resting his hand on his sword hilt, Alm cautiously stepped forward. Once he came within reach of Falchion, Duma ordered Celica forward. She emerged from the shadows behind Mila. Alm let out a gasp.

“Celica!” His face lit up. “You’re all right!”

He went around Mila, greeting Celica with open arms.

But in the space of less than a second, his hope of a happy reunion was shattered by the swipe of Celica’s blade. Her stroke missed him by a matter of inches. He leaped backward, letting out a cry of surprise.

“What are you doing?! It’s me!”

Celica said nothing. She raised her sword again but did not strike. Meanwhile, Alm gripped the hilt of his sword, hesitating to draw it from its sheath. He and Celica stared silently at each other for a few seconds.

“…Celica?” Alm said.

“ _Come,_ ” Celica said. “ _Offer your soul to Lord Duma…”_

“What?”

Celica let out a yell and charged. Alm drew his sword just barely in time to block the blow. However, the force behind Celica’s attack pushed him back. When he made no effort to counterattack, Celica swung her blade again. Alm sidestepped the strike.

Despite ample opportunity, he did not fight back. Instead, he kept trying to speak to her.

“Celica!” he said, raising the Royal Sword to block her next attack. “Don’t do this!”

The Beloved Zofia came down even harder than Alm expected, nearly knocking his sword from his grasp. With one powerful motion, Celica swept Alm’s sword arm to the side. She followed up with a thrust aimed at his chest, but he had already backed away out of reach.

He readied his sword again, but at this point he could not have gone on the attack even if he wanted to. Celica’s attacks came almost too quick and powerful for him to keep up.

And, unbeknownst to her, Alm had seen that unsettling red aura before. No one had to tell him what happened; he figured it out quickly enough.

“No…” he said. “Celica… not you too…”

He balked. With Alm’s guard thus lowered, Celica rushed in to strike. Her sudden movement jolted him back to reality, and he readied his sword.

Their blades clashed, and this time, they remained locked for a moment. Alm looked her in the eye, the sorrow in his own eyes stirring something deep in Celica’s soul. But with Duma controlling her, there was little she could do.

“Alm… please…” she whispered.

Alm’s breath caught in his throat.

“Listen to me.” Celica grimaced, every word a painful effort. “You’re too late… you have to kill me… before I kill you…”

Alm tried to push Celica’s blade aside. It was a wasted effort.

“No!” he said. “You know I can’t do that!”

Celica let out a horrifying noise that sounded somewhere between a human scream and a dragon’s roar. She took a step back, only to strike with even greater ferocity than before.

Alm let out a cry of his own as the Royal Sword was sent flying out of his hands. It clattered to the floor somewhere in the shadows, well out of reach. He backed up against Mila’s head, defenseless. The moment his hand brushed up against the stone, however, Alm’s head snapped up, as if something had suddenly grabbed his attention. He turned to look at Mila.

As if compelled by an unheard command, Alm reached for Falchion’s hilt. To both his and Celica’s surprise, a white light flashed from his Brand when he touched the divine blade.

_What is he doing?_

The stone encasing Falchion began to crack, and more light began to shine through the cracks.

_The seal is… broken?_

_Damn you, Mila! What have you done?!_

Duma flew into a rage that set every nerve in Celica’s body on fire. More energy coursed through her, overwhelming her senses and drowning out her thoughts. She trembled violently, letting out another inhuman scream.

What little control of her thoughts and actions she had wrested from Duma earlier was instantly lost. She couldn’t even begin to resist in such a state. All she could feel was Duma’s fear and rage. Over and over, two words echoed in her head.

_Kill him… kill him… KILL HIM!_

She raised her sword, just as Alm raised Falchion out of Mila’s brow. Aiming their swords, Alm and Celica then charged at each other.

Too late, Celica realized what she was doing. Mustering what was left of her strength, she made one last effort to resist Duma’s control.

All she had to do was miss.

Her charge was brought to an abrupt halt as Alm buried Falchion up to the hilt in her chest. Blood spurted out of the wound, the blade piercing her heart.

In her head, Duma cried out with the same agony Celica herself felt. Celica, meanwhile, could not physically cry out. She had started choking on her own blood, and she struggled just to breathe.

Duma’s voice grew fainter with each beat of her dying heart. While her life’s blood drained onto the floor, Duma’s grip on her soul weakened. Less than a minute later, his voice fell silent. His influence was purged.

Celica dropped to her knees, then collapsed on the floor. She lay on her side, Falchion still lodged in her chest.

_I’m sorry, Alm…_

Consciousness faded rapidly. She barely registered the thud of her own body hitting the floor. Alm appeared to be little more than a shadow standing next to her, but even his shadow vanished as the chamber went dark.

The world became dark and silent. Celica’s eyes fell shut.

Moments later, she would reopen them.

As consciousness gradually returned to her, she took a minute to stare at the ceiling. Though she had fallen on her side, she awoke lying flat on her back.

She furrowed her brow, confused.

_Am I… still alive?_

She put a hand over her heart. Blood still stained her clothing, but the fatal wound was gone. Falchion itself was also missing.

“What…?”

She sat up.

“What happened?”

A metallic gleam caught her eye. She looked to her right. There on the floor lay the divine blade, still stained with Celica’s blood. She stared at it, still confused.

_No… I was dead… I must have been brought back somehow…_

_Mila?_

Mila’s petrified body seemed to have disappeared. The empty space where her body used to be now made the chamber seem much smaller. But even that wasn’t her biggest concern.

“Alm…”

Her heart suddenly started racing. She never did see the outcome of their battle – if she had successfully missed that final attack.

The chamber remained silent, even when Celica waited several seconds for Alm to respond. She began to feel sick.

_Calm down,_ she told herself. _He probably left, thinking I was dead. I just need to go find him…_

She pushed herself to her feet. A dizzy spell struck her, forcing her to stay put for a moment. As soon as she felt steady on her feet, she turned around.

She covered her mouth to stifle a scream.

Alm lay on the floor in a pool of his own blood. Lodged in his chest was Celica’s own Beloved Zofia.  

“Oh gods, no… what have I done?”

Celica nearly choked on the words. She fell to her knees. With a trembling hand, she reached over and touched Alm’s cheek. The icy cold feel of his skin made her flinch. She withdrew her hand.

“So this is what the vision meant… Alm…”

Burying her head in her hands, Celica’s whole body began to shake. Within seconds, her composure shattered. She wept.

Just barely audible amidst her sobs was a soft ticking noise. Though it took a few minutes for her to calm down and notice it, the Turnwheel still hung from her neck, its divine clockwork still going.

“Wait…”

She reached up and wrapped her fingers around it. The gears in her head started to turn. Her heart beat faster.

All was not yet lost. She could still save Alm.

Mumbling an anxious prayer under her breath, Celica fumbled with the Turnwheel for a second. Securing her grip on it, she began turning it. Unsure of how much time had passed since meeting with Jedah, she decided to give it several turns – each turn going back further in time. Once satisfied that she had gone far enough, she let go.

The instant she released it, the Turnwheel emitted a brilliant flash of white light. It filled the entire chamber, the blinding light causing everything to disappear. While Celica was still blinded, the Turnwheel made a muffled whirring noise. Its magical mechanisms spun at increasing speeds. It lasted only a few seconds, but to Celica those seconds were an eternity.

She closed her eyes against the blinding light from the Turnwheel. When the whirring abruptly stopped, she still kept her eyes tightly shut. But even with eyes closed, it became apparent that the light was rapidly fading. After about a minute, it had become dark enough that Celica decided to open her eyes.

She was still in the chamber with Mila.

And when she tried to look around, she once again found herself paralyzed. Her very soul, trapped.

“ _Brand Bearer…”_

Once again, Duma’s voice echoed in her head.

Celica wanted to cry out in despair. She had failed; the Turnwheel had not taken her far enough back in time to avoid Jedah’s trap.

Within minutes, Alm would walk through the chamber doors again. And unless Celica found a way to overcome Duma’s control, their battle would end the same way as before.

The muffled sounds of battle – the telltale signs of Alm’s approach – echoed in the distance. Duma forced Celica to draw her sword and wait where she stood.

Celica’s vision blurred. A single tear fell down her cheek.

“ _Bring his soul to me…”_

Alm walked in, just as before. Upon seeing Celica, he rushed to embrace her. And, just like before, Celica swung her blade at him, and their battle began.

Everything played out the same way it had the first time. While she exchanged blows with Alm, Celica simultaneously fought against Duma’s influence inside her own mind. However, the best she could manage was to force out a few words to Alm. Begging him to kill her before she killed him. Unfortunately, Alm either would not – or could not – grant her request.

Just like the first time, Celica eventually overpowered him. She sent the Royal Sword flying out of his hands. He then went for Falchion.

Duma reacted with the same fear and rage as before at seeing Falchion’s seal broken. Briefly overwhelmed by the divine dragon’s fury, Celica charged at Alm, sword pointed directly at his heart. He charged at her as well. A split second later, she came to an abrupt halt. Falchion had found its mark.

She fell.

Minutes later, she awoke to find herself lying on the floor, Falchion lying next to her on her right. Exactly as it had been the first time.

She sat up and stared at the sword for several seconds, waiting. Desperately wishing to hear Alm’s voice. Listening for any sign that her second chance had not been in vain. But the chamber remained silent.

_Please no… not again…_

Her heart already sinking into her stomach, Celica slowly turned around. The sight caused her to immediately cry out.

“Alm! _No!_ ”

His corpse lay next to her, the Beloved Zofia still protruding from the fatal wound in his chest. Nothing had changed.

Blinking away tears, Celica reached for the Turnwheel. She turned it over and over, praying feverishly that it would take her further back in time, to a point that she could evade Jedah’s trap. Before reaching the Altar – that was as far as she needed to go. But with no way of knowing how long ago that was, all she could do was test the Turnwheel’s limits. She turned it until she could not turn it any further. When she released it, the light flashed, and the world turned to white.

The light faded, only to reveal a painfully familiar sight. Mila’s petrified head, with Falchion piercing her brow.

And no matter how she tried, Duma would not allow her to scream.

Instead, he made her draw her sword again. He kept her frozen in place, waiting for Alm to walk in. Alm entered the room a few minutes later, only to be greeted with a swipe from the Beloved Zofia. A sickening sense of déjà vu washed over her as their ill-fated battle commenced for the third time.

“Alm! Do it now! Kill me!”

Even as she begged for death, Duma’s power surged through Celica’s sword arm, knocking the Royal Sword out of Alm’s hands. He stumbled backwards, stopping right beside Mila’s head.

Like the two times before, Alm then reached for Falchion, breaking the seal and drawing the divine blade from Mila’s head. The decisive moment had arrived.

Alm and Celica charged at each other. Falchion pierced her heart a third time. Seconds later, she fell to the ground.

A couple minutes later, she awoke, and the cycle continued.

She sat up, listening in vain for Alm’s voice. When she heard nothing, she turned around, already knowing what she would see. Sure enough, there he lay, with her sword impaled in his chest.

She screamed.

Temporarily lost to her despair, she threw her arms around his body, embracing him as she wept. She stayed there for several minutes.

“Why?” she cried. “Mother Mila… why…”

_He shouldn’t have to die for my mistakes… Take me instead… please…._

Regaining her composure, Celica sat upright. Letting go of Alm’s body, she then reached for the Turnwheel. She took a deep breath and began turning it.

They fought a fourth time. Then a fifth. She lost count of the number of times she failed to save him. With each failed loop, her despair grew, threatening to crush her. She knew the Turnwheel could not handle an infinite loop. Eventually, it would break.

That is, if her will didn’t break first.

Like the many times before, the Turnwheel’s light faded, and Celica was yet again trapped, body and soul, in Duma’s grasp. The mad god’s voice echoed in her head. Through their shared link, he and Celica heard each other’s thoughts.

Duma could sense her desperation.

“ _You desire power…”_ he said. “ _Power to stop even me…”_

Undeterred, Duma imbued Celica with his strength anyway. Her whole body seized up, and she groaned in pain as divine energy flooded her senses yet again.

_“We must… seek more power…”_

_No!_ Celica protested. _Stop this! Release me!_

The energy surge intensified, much stronger than anything Celica had felt in the previous time loops. Her groans turned into screams.

Duma’s madness took over, drowning out Celica’s thoughts. The red aura returned. As the pain subsided, Celica reached for the Beloved Zofia.

At the sound of her screams from earlier, the footsteps outside the chamber sped up from a walk to a sprint. Alm’s voice called out from beyond the corridor.

“Celica! Hold on!”

Seconds later, Alm came running into the chamber, the Royal Sword already in hand. He came to an abrupt halt in front of Mila.

“What the…”

Celica came out of the shadows next to Mila. But before Alm had time to react, she let out a yell and swung her sword at him. Alm leaped backward, narrowly dodging the attack.

“Celica?! What are you doing?”

She ignored him and pressed her attack. This time, Alm tried blocking the blow with his sword. It worked, but only temporarily. With Duma’s power coursing through her, Celica easily pushed Alm’s sword aside. She kept a relentless pace of attack, allowing Alm no time to counter.

“Celica, please!”

It was all he could do just to keep dodging and parrying her attacks. And yet, in the occasional moment where he did have an opportunity to attack, he didn’t.

“Alm…”

“Huh?!”

Their blades clashed. Gripping his sword with both hands, Alm put all of his strength into holding Celica back.

“Listen, Alm…” Celica said weakly. “You have to… stop me…”

That was all she managed to say before Duma regained control. Celica let out a savage cry and pushed Alm away. He stumbled back a few paces, but quickly caught himself. Before he could do anything else, Celica went on the attack again.

_No… stop…_

She swung the Beloved Zofia in a wide arc in front of her. The tip of her blade nicked Alm’s breastplate, leaving a long scratch across it.

_Stop!_

Alm backed away as quickly as he could, eyes wide with terror. As the battle wore on, he became too winded to speak. But the look in his eyes silently pleaded with Celica. She could practically hear his voice, begging her to stop.

But she couldn’t. At this point, she couldn’t even slow Duma down. His madness, fueled by bloodlust, completely drowned out Celica’s thoughts. She let out another yell and ran after Alm.

The fight ranged all over the chamber. In a desperate bid to keep out of reach of Celica’s blade, Alm ran circles around Mila, using the giant stone body as a barrier of sorts. After the first times going around, Celica took to jumping and climbing over the petrified body instead. She maneuvered over Mila and around the chamber at alarming speed.

Landing right next to Alm, she aimed her blade at his chest again. She swung wide, hitting the marble pillar on her left when Alm leaped backward to dodge. While Celica pulled her sword from the pillar, Alm stole a glance at Mila.

Celica’s yell pulled Alm back to reality, and he raised the Royal Sword. He parried the attack, but the force behind the strike still pushed him back. Celica tried yet again to brush his sword arm aside.

Alm dodged a thrust from the Beloved Zofia. He glanced at Mila again, brow furrowed.

“What…?” he muttered.

Whatever was happening with Mila, Celica gave him no time to focus on it. She charged at him again. He continued to dodge and parry.

Eventually, he found himself standing even with Mila’s head, Falchion now in easy reach. As if reacting to some unheard voice, he turned his attention to the stone head again.

He then reached for Falchion with his free hand. The instant he touched it, his Brand started glowing.

Driven by Duma’s rage, Celica let out a horrifying scream and charged at Alm before he could pull the blade out of Mila’s head. He raised the Royal Sword but kept his other hand on Falchion.

Sparks flew as their blades met. Half a second later, the chamber echoed with a clattering sound.

Alm withdrew his now empty left hand. It was his sword that had gone flying across the room.

Out of desperation, he seized Falchion with both hands and pulled. The light glowing from both the blade and his Brand intensified, stunning Celica for a second. In that second, Alm pulled Falchion out of Mila’s brow. The last of the stone encasing it fell away.

Celica recovered and readied her sword for one more strike. Only this time, she stood directly in front of him.

In all the previous loops, she had found herself standing halfway across the chamber from him just before their final charge.

_No! I’m too close! I can’t –_

It was too late. Duma had already put her sword hand in motion.

Alm let out a strangled cry as Celica plunged the Beloved Zofia into his chest. Staggering backward a couple of steps, his arms slowly dropped to his sides.

Falchion clattered to the floor.

Alm looked Celica in the eye. His own eyes grew distant and unfocused as the life faded from them. Blood spilled out of his wound, pooling onto the floor.

“No… Celica…” he said weakly. “Why…?”

Though she appeared outwardly still, what remained of Celica’s consciousness fairly exploded with horror and grief at what she had done.

_No… oh gods, no… this can’t be happening!_

_“Well done, my faithful servant…”_

Alm’s eyes fell shut. Celica yanked the Beloved Zofia out of his chest, and he fell to the floor, dead.

At last, she broke. Every loop – every attempt to give her life in exchange for his – was all for naught. Her will shattered. In the wake of her final failure, her voice was not merely drowned out; it vanished. There was no longer any difference between her thoughts and Duma's.

Inside her mind, Duma roared in triumph. 

In the chamber, however, silence fell. It was broken by yet a third clattering sound as Celica dropped the Beloved Zofia.

“Look what you’ve done…” she muttered.

A smile played at her lips. She began to laugh. It started with a few mirthless chuckles, but then developed into a full-blown fit of deranged laughter.

“Alm… you fool…” she said. “What did you think… would happen…”

The laughing fit lasted for several minutes. All the while, Celica kept her gaze fixed on Alm’s corpse. For some reason, she couldn’t seem to look away from it.

When at last the fit subsided, she took a few deep breaths to collect herself. Reaching down to retrieve her sword, she then proceeded to wipe the blood from the blade.

As she did this, she noticed something out of the corner of her eye. The Turnwheel, still hanging from the necklace. Still softly ticking away. She slowly reached up and grabbed it.

" _Mila..._ "

A pause followed. She stared at it for a minute, her expression blank. Then, with one sudden, violent motion, she yanked the necklace from her neck. Opening her hand, she then allowed the Turnwheel to fall to the floor. It landed by Alm’s body, within inches of where he had dropped Falchion.

Celica’s gaze shifted from the Turnwheel, then to Falchion, and then – for one last time – to Alm.

Taking a deep breath, she tried to speak, but her voice failed her. Whatever she had to say, the words never escaped her lips.

With that, she turned around. She headed out the chamber doors, disappearing into the dark corridor beyond.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few notes regarding this story: So I wanted to write something that actually made the Turnwheel relevant to the plot, rather than the game-breaking (and plot hole inducing) mechanic that saved us on Classic Mode. This ended up being the result.  
> I found it odd that Mila seemed to want Alm to use Falchion specifically in the fight against the possessed Celica. I thought it meant that Falchion itself was necessary for Celica's revival to work. Basically, what's left of Mila's power is contained in Falchion, and she uses it to save Celica. But by that same logic, that means ONLY Celica could have been revived in the event of a double kill (and looking at how they charge each other head-on in the cutscene, that's the most realistic outcome, tbh.)


End file.
